Reincarnation
by Impassive Moon
Summary: Reincarnation (from Latin meaning "to be made flesh again") refers to the belief that a part of a living being survives death to be reborn again in some way. Eragon had died, but not all of him is gone. Harry Potter is having strange dreams, ones of fierce, jewel toned dragons, and clashing armies. Any coincidence? Just a one-shot for now.


**AN:** Ok, so this idea came by me while I was comparing Eragon to Harry (while I started the last Eragon book, which I still haven't finished) As you can see (by the very short drabble) I found them to be quiet similar. You don't need to have extensive knowledge of either books, there might be spoilers depending how much you have read, but for Eragon not much farther than the first book, and Harry Potter its somewhere in the 5th book. Right now its just this one-shot, if I'll make it longer, who knows.

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Reincarnation (from Latin meaning "to be made flesh again") in religion and philosophy refers to the belief that a part of a living being survives death to be reborn again in some way. This reincarnated self carries with it some essence or identity of the past life into the next life, although it is usually not aware of it.

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Everyone is reincarnated, many unaware of that previous life. But, sometimes a previous life could be so vivid, and the bonds formed so strong that the reincarnated couldn't help but to remember. This is the story of bonds that could never be broken, memories that still remain. Neither trials and tribulations, nor machinations and manipulations, even distance and time, could ever come close to truly erasing these memories, no in the end not even death could cause these events to be forgotten.

Harry Potter was living his second life, unaware of his first like many others before him. His previous life was not unlike that of his current. He was looked to as a hero, and great were his land's expectations. For the boy now known as Harry Potter, his first land was a distant one, a land whose history and knowledge is now forever lost upon the sands of time. This first land was broken, fragmented by the civil war that had ravened throughout its borders. A war caused by one man's magic and madness. This mad king and his twisted followers had caused the dwarves to flee to their citadels under the earth and in the great mountains beyond the vast dessert; the elves had hidden themselves in their forests and broken their ties with the human race. And the dragons, those proud and fierce creatures, had been hunted down and killed one by one until only one dragon, the Mad King's, and three eggs remained. This was the land that the boy had been born into.

Harry Potter's second life could be considered similar to his first. He was an orphan, given to and raised by his aunt and uncle as an infant with minimal explanation. And an entire land's, no world's population looked to him as a savior, Eragon Shade-slayer then, now Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Lived. But this boy, no young man now and then was unaware of this. He knew not of his past, his first life in which he saved his world. All he knew was that now he was called to save the world he was introduced to when he was eleven.

He was given no training, no way to prepare himself for the increasingly more dangerous tasks and trials that he found himself facing, time and time again. Yet, they expected him to survive, to do more than that, to win. He was considered only a boy by the adults, too young to be told of what was truly happening in the world around him. But, he was asked to save that very world, blind and unprepared, he was expected to vanquish the foe whose name could be said by so few, either allies or enemies.

But flashes started coming back to Harry in his dreams, starting from his fifteenth birthday. First he dreamed of a farm and a peasant family, his relatives who raised him, then hunting in a vast wood with only a bow and arrows as his weapons. Time passed and as the end of summer drew near his dreams took on a more fantastical quality, a brilliant gem turned dragon's egg, stories of great dragon riders of old, a flight from the small village of his childhood, an ambush in an abandoned dessert village. The last image haunted Harry; it was a massacre bodies piled high in a grotesque fashion, arrows protruding from them. Then, later he was cornered in an alley by a hideous monster, Urgal, his mind supplied and shooting it dead with a flaming arrow.

Harry was walking along the street trying to come to terms with his latest in his series of strange dreams. Last summer they had been filled with visions of Voldemort and Wormtail, now they were scenes from someone else's life. No, that didn't sound right. They felt like they were memories from his life, or they should be at any rate. But the last one, the pair of monsters one killed by his own arrow, but yet──it wasn't his arrow. He had never even tried archery, but it felt that he could hit a small target even from far away. This entire summer had been filled with changes; he was given more food this summer, and had started gaining some muscle. Then it felt like he could do the feats that his dream-self had, everything from farming to hunting, horseback riding to swordsmanship. And all of this confused him. Not paying attention to his surroundings Harry realized that he had reached the old playground. He sat on one of the swings and thought more on his dreams.

The boy in his dreams was about his age, but the events would have happened a long time ago. It seemed to be even more than that though, he had a feeling that this had happened in a different world from where he was now. The odd creatures he had seen in the dreams seemed even more surreal than anything he had encountered in Care of Magical Creatures, and the dreams seemed to be too real to be mere dreams. But it couldn't be Voldemort, Harry didn't know why but a part of him knew that the dreams weren't because of him. The land that his dream-self had lived in seemed so different from modern England, it was like something from a fairytale of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, filled with knights, dragons, and storytellers that were more than they appeared. Hell, the dreams even had an orphaned boy to whom surreal and dangerous things kept happening. It seemed in a way some kind of odd medieval parody of his life.

And in a way it was, because in a way that boy he saw in his dreams **was** himself, just a distorted reflection through the sands of time.

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**End Notes:** So not sure if I'll continue this or not, I wrote this back in April and just found this on my computer and kinda liked it. Feedback would be appreciated. Oh, and has anyone else seen the parallels between Harry and Eragon?


End file.
